Right Next Door
by NobleCaliber
Summary: She sees these coming and goings, and they break her frail old heart. But one day, he doesn't come home. And his girls are gone too. That's even worse.


A/N: Okay, I seriously have an unhealthy obsession with writing the Gibbs Family. Its getting out of hand- but I love it!

This one's kind of Shannon while Gibbs is being deployed, deployed, and coming home. With our heartbreaking tragedy at the end.

Our dear neighbor, Miss Marcy Tremaine, is an elderly widow. Just FYI

Don't own it. Well, I guess the OC is mine, but the rest isn't.

/\

She sees the comings and goings- and they never fail to break her frail old heart.

Her neighbor's family- well, their a navy family. The Gibbses, that's them.

They're a small family. The man, the girl's father and the woman's husband, is a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps. His wife's a beautiful redheaded woman, a true sorrel top. Their daughter- Kelly, sometimes she'll watch the child when the young couple go out- is a bundle of energy, and her hair color wavers at a subtler tone than her mother's, although still red.

Marcy Tremaine lives next door to the Gibbses. She babysits the girl and has tea with her mother while her husband, the marine, fixes up leaks in the pipes and holes in the fence. They're a very nice family.

Each time the man is deployed, she watches from her window, her heart breaking at the sight of their final goodbyes. Every time, he repeats the same set of statements to his wife. He tells her "I will take care. I will come home safe." and then he pauses for a moment, and as the years go by, she'll lightheartedly poke him towards his quiet "I love you." He'll bend down and scoop up the child, kissing her forehead as she offers him some trinket to carry with him. A bracelet, the ribbon from her hair. He takes it with a smile every time.

Each time, Marcy visits the next day. She brings lunch for the girls, usually. She'll talk to the child as the little girl goes on about her daddy fighting monsters and the exact date her father will be home again.

The woman doesn't talk much during these first visits. She never does, the first day after. She just sits, her eyes wandering around the room, recalling every event that ever occurred on every square inch of carpet.

The weeks go by, and his girls adjust. The girl doesn't talk as much about her father, the woman goes about her normal life, the child in tow. But their world is always a bit off when he gone. Not much, you wouldn't notice if you weren't looking closely. But still, off.

When he comes home- they all have the date marked on their calendars, even Marcy- the marine's wife and daughter sit outside all day, waiting. The child writes '_Welcome home Daddy'_ on every available surface in brightly colored chalk. The woman stands in the shade of a tree and watches down the road. Her gaze never falters, not once. She watches the end of the street all day long, rain or shine. Marcy remembers that once, when he returned home in the dead of winter, those two were outside still, being covered in the falling snow.

When the man finally drives up- he always comes speeding home at just a little over the speed limit, but when he sees them, standing in the driveway, he floors it- the door of their truck is ripped open by whoever's hand reaches it first and in an instant, the time it takes to blink, the marine has is arms wrapped around his wife, their daughter squashed between them, giggling.

There's a thousand _I love you_'s and just as many _We missed you_'s as they make their way inside, his gear forgotten in the vehicle.

Marcy always brings the family some sweets- a pan of brownies, a pie, a cake- that night. They split whatever it is four ways amongst them, eating the entire thing in one sitting. The woman always ends up giving half of her serving to her husband and Miss Tremaine shares hers with the child.

When he returns, the world is righted again.

1991, the man is deployed to Dessert Storm. The girl has just had her eighth birthday, and the couple's tenth anniversary is fast approaching. He'll be home for that.

But as time passes, it becomes evident that something has gone wrong. The woman and her daughter leave with a uniformed law enforcement officer. The marine doesn't return home.

Unwilling to break routine, Marcy prepares her pie anyways. The day the man was scheduled to arrive home, she let's herself into the empty house with the key she's been given. She place the pie in the refrigerator and waters the plants for the woman.

A week later, she bursts into the police station. She tells the woman at the desk she wants to file a missing persons report. The officers, they watch her closely, many of them believing this woman needs to be committed. But this neighbor knows something is off.

She finishes the report. The Chief of Police looks it over, makes a call. The man invites her into his office. He pours them both a cup of coffee and begins asking her questions. Mainly about her relation to the family.

After she's answered all his questions, he steps out and makes another call. Another man comes for her. He identifies himself as Michael Franks, an NIS agent. She doesn't know what that means, but she's certain something has gone terribly wrong.

Agent Franks takes her to NIS. He puts her in an interrogation room and asks her more questions- many the same that the Chief of Police did. When he's satisfied, he escorts her to the morgue- where the marine's wife and daughter lay, cold and stiff, on metal slabs.

Blinking back tears, she asks where the final piece of their family is. The medical examiner tells her he's been transferred to a DC hospital. He's been in an explosion, he's in a coma.

As soon as he's safely in the Bethesda medical complex, she visits. She sits with him, every day, until he's awake.

When he does come around- almost twenty days later- he looks her in the eye and says, "They're dead."

When he's released, he drives him home and makes a fresh pie. She makes him three meals a day, because he's hopeless anywhere but the microwave and the grill.

Everyday, he tells her the same thing. He looks at her, his icy blue eyes fighting back tears, and whispers, "_They're dead._"

All she can do is nod as reply, "_I know, Jethro. I'm so sorry._"


End file.
